“So you killed Rahima and begged your superiors at the ministry to allow you to take her place?” Alexander responded, all of it making sense.
“Our cause is growing, Mr. Burnham, and you can’t stop us.”
“Maybe I can’t. But I can do everything within my power to make sure these women…” He gestured to the women huddled together, watching with trepidation. “And everyone else in their shoes never have to live in fear of your traditions again.”
“You don’t get to play God!” she bellowed, becoming more irate, as if she were on the brink of losing everything she had worked for. There was panic in her eyes, but also fear. This was bigger than Alexander thought.
“And you do? You’re just a pawn in their game, too, Aliyah,” he said, his voice becoming passionate, trying to play on her own distress. “I know about Maleek.” He stepped toward her. “Of course, you probably knew him best as Aazar. He was your brother, wasn’t he?”
Her eyes widened, her mouth agape. “How—”
“And they made you kill him. Why? For what? They don’t care about you. Or your brother. They brainwashed you, made you think you’d have everything you’ve ever dreamed of once the Islamic Union extended its rule around the globe. Isn’t that right? Probably even guaranteed you a portion of the bounty these girls’ families had placed on each of their heads, correct?” He had heard the story a few times before. People turning to a rogue extremist group to seek so-called justice in exchange for a large fee, all under the guise of some higher morality.
“They didn’t—”
“It’s a bit duplicitous, don’t you think?” he interrupted. “You stand there and claim our western way of life is wrong, that it goes against everything you’ve been taught, yet what’s your big motivator here? Money. What would have happened if you didn’t get the job with the Women’s Ministry in Afghanistan?” he pushed, staring into her eyes.
“You speak of these people as if they’re monsters. They’re not! Yes, they may have agreed to help families enforce certain traditions for a small fee, but they’re still people who believe in a cause, who see the wrongs in the world and want to right them, who help people—”
“Help people?” he scoffed. “Tell me how terrorizing your own countrymen is helping them! Tell me how murdering innocent men, women, and children is helpful! Tell me how being forced to kill your brother, your own flesh and blood, is righting the wrongs in the world!”
“Because!” Her face grew red, the vein in her forehead throbbing as she held the knife closer to Olivia’s throat. “It had to be done. He failed on his mission and needed to face the consequences. He brought dishonor on me. He was given one assignment! One! All he was supposed to do was find these girls by any means necessary, but my brother always had a morbid curiosity with death, even as a young boy. We could never have any pets because they all ended up dead by his hand. After recruiting him to the cause when he was arrested, I thought he would have gotten his fill of bloodlust, but I was wrong. He drew attention to himself by killing all those men and women! He needed to pay for this serious misstep. I know what I’ve done, but I have faith I’ll be rewarded. Maybe not in this life, but certainly in the next. I’ve had time to make my peace with Allah.” She narrowed her gaze at him, a sinister smile crawling across her lips. “Has your wife?”
In a flash, she raised the blade, swiftly bringing it back toward Olivia’s throat. Without a weapon, Alexander rushed toward her. A gunshot rang out as screams filled the room. He feared they hadn’t eliminated all of Aliyah’s men and one had made his final stand.
Disoriented, he looked over his shoulder toward the hallway leading to the basement, letting out a small breath when he saw Moretti standing in the shadows, his pistol raised. He looked back at Aliyah, blood staining her shoulder where the bullet had entered. She had stumbled, releasing her grasp on Olivia.
Clutching Olivia’s arm, he pushed her toward Moretti, keeping her out of harm’s way. Able to regain her footing, Aliyah charged toward Alexander, the blade raised over her head. Reacting quickly, he bent down and ripped his own knife out of his leg holster just as she approached, running right into the blade, piercing her stomach.
Surprise crossed her face as her knife fell from her grasp, the clanging of it hitting the ground echoing in the room. Alexander lowered her to the floor, keeping his knife firmly planted in her stomach. His face reddened, his mind a rage-filled cloud. She deserved to suffer, to feel excruciating pain.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alexander caught Moretti’s gaze as FBI agents escorted Olivia and the rest of the women from the house. Passing him a knowing look, Moretti nodded, then tore his eyes from Alexander.
“Clear the room!” he ordered.
The few remaining FBI agents gave him an inquisitive look, their brows furrowing.
“Now!” Moretti demanded.
Looking from their boss to Alexander, his knife still dug into Aliyah’s stomach as she struggled to breathe, they nodded, then retreated from the living room and out the front door, Moretti following behind them, leaving Alexander and Aliyah alone.
Returning his attention to Aliyah, his nostrils flared, his chest heaving as he twisted the knife piercing her stomach. He grunted as her eyes widened and she let out a noiseless gasp.
“Not so much fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?” he hissed.
“I’m not scared of dying,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I lost everything years ago. My parents. My home. Everything. Because of you Americans. You came into our country promising democracy, a world free from terror, but I have news for you. Democracy doesn’t work everywhere, Mr. Burnham. There will always be people who see what’s wrong with the world and will sacrifice their lives to make it better.”
“Better?” He clenched his jaw. “How has anything you’ve done made the world a better place? All you’ve done is murder innocent people.”
“Your friend, Landon, said the same thing before I killed him,” she strained.
“That was you?” Alexander asked, his expression faltering.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “He never even expected it. Didn’t even put up a fight. He was so thankful I warned him about the explosion, he willingly came with me. Stupid, stupid man.”
His back tense, he trembled with hatred. “Where is his body?”
“You expect me to remember where I buried one insignificant little man?” she scoffed, the unbearable pain she was enduring evident on her face.
Alexander twisted the knife again, and she let out a grunt, gasping for air. “He wasn’t insignificant. Now, tell me!”
Her face scrunched up in agony as Alexander dug the knife deeper.
“I can do this for hours. Bring you to the brink of death, then pull back. The longer you refuse to tell me what I need to know, the more pain I’ll inflict on you. That’s a promise,” he growled.